The Most Important Scientific Discovery of the Decade
by MMLV
Summary: Fabian doesn't believe in fairies. They're the stuff of imagination. He's twelve, he's to old for that. But now Tanya is claiming to be able to see them. And she has a potion that can make him see them too.


"Come up to my room when it's all clear," Tanya said, getting up from the dewy grass and making her way back towards the manor. She cast wary glances around herself, checking for signs of Warwick.

Fabian watched her as she left. His eyes were still stinging from the tears that had threatened to come. He refused to release them around Tanya. He blinked them back and turned back towards the brook, determined to repress the memories.

It was only then that he remembered the potion. He took it from his pocket and set it on the grass in front of him.

The bottle was miniscule, barely seven centimetres high. Its glass was ornate, curling and twisting this way and that in a perfect transparent wave. The stopper was like a crystal ball stuck fast in the neck. The bottle was too good for the contents.

Inside was a sticky mess of green sludge, almost opaque. Resembling a liquefied frog, the contents slurped and sucked at the glass. A thin wand was barely visible through the gunk.

Fabian stared at the vial. His eyes swept over the contents, trying to figure out what the liquid was made of. He had no idea what elements were in it. If Mad Morag made it, it was probably made out of natural ingredients: moss, leaves, maybe even fungi. And somehow, the witch was expecting him to put this poison in his eyes.

Could it really make him able to see fairies? Tanya had said so, and she should know, what with being able to see fairies and all.

Did he really believe that? Sure, she had proof, of a sort. If she was telling the truth and she hadn't read his book, she must have got it from somewhere else. And whilst Tanya could be annoying, even spiteful, he didn't think she was a lunatic. How else could he explain all the weird stuff? And when he thought about it, the existence of fairies made several things slot into place.

Years ago, when he had been bored one day, Fabian went into the library to find some new books to read. He knew there wouldn't be anything scientific, but he was curious as to what books Florence hoarded.

He had found one book in particular that looked intriguing. It was easily a thousand pages, maybe more. Its cover was a faded claret, and coated in a layer of grime from years of disuse. Fabian blew the dust off and heaved it open with a loud creak. Inside was a plethora of information on fairies, or 'faeries' as the book called them. He had scoffed at first, but became absorbed as he read on.

Over time he had forgotten what he had read, but the events of the past few days had jogged his memory. When Tanya mentioned that the colour red broke curses, he recalled reading about it. He also remembered a passage on glamour. Maybe the potion did something to his eyes that removed fairy glamour. Maybe that was how it worked.

Suddenly he was desperate to try it. For science more than anything else.

"Don't waste it," Tanya had said before leaving him. But there was enough potion to anoint both eyes dozens of times, surely.

His excitement got the better of him. He twisted the stopper until it popped out, and he slowly drew the wand out of the bottle. On its tip was a single droplet of the sage-green liquid.

Fabian took a deep breath. He tilted his head back and allowed the potion to drip into his right eye, then his left.

His eyes started to sting almost immediately. He'd had eye drops before, but nothing like this. His vision was becoming milky and blurred.

I'm going blind, he thought. The witch put poison in it. I'm going to lose my sight.

But his vision cleared after a mere couple of seconds, and he could see clearly again. He looked around eagerly, expecting to see fairies flitting between trees, their wings glistening in the sunlight, but there was nothing. He blinked, disappointed. Maybe the damn potion didn't even work.

No, he decided. There wasn't enough evidence to prove it one way or another yet. He would simply explore until he found a fairy. There had to be one somewhere.

Fabian got up, collecting his journal, and started towards the house. Several times he thought he heard the buzzing of wings, but when he looked up the sky was empty. He made his way for the kitchen.

The room was empty, although the still-warm mug on the table suggested that Warwick had not long left the kitchen. If he strained his ears, Fabian could just about hear his hobnail boots stomping around somewhere above him. Florence was nowhere to be seen, but was most likely in the sitting room.

He scanned the room, his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Finding none, he sighed and started to leave.

As he passed the fireplace, however, he noticed something in his peripheral vision. Something that looked a lot like a pale, spindly arm.

Fabian whirled around. Whatever he saw had moved out of view, but it couldn't have gone far. He crouched by the fireplace, examining it. There was nothing. Impatiently, he started to move away the pots that were crammed in the hearth. He was making too much noise, but he didn't care. He had to see it.

A figure suddenly scurried from behind a pot, retreating back into the fireplace to hide among the ancient ashes. Fabian gasped, and arranged the pots so as to block its escape route. The figure cowered in the corner.

Fabian knelt down to study it. It was female, as far as he could tell. Long black hair cascaded down its back in messy tendrils, contrasting with its skin, which was as pale and perfect as fresh milk. It was wearing a dress that appeared to be made from a dishrag, which was coated in ashes and scorch marks. A folded pair of wings hung from its shoulders. It bared its teeth at Fabian, but made no move to attack him.

"Incredible," he breathed. He started to reach out to touch it, but the terror in its face made him think twice. He withdrew his hand. "I'm not going to hurt you," he told it.

Talking to a fairy. Maybe he was hallucinating, after all.

"Fabian!"

He jumped at Warwick's shout. It sounded like it was coming from the ground floor. He replaced the pots, quietly this time, and smiled at the fairy. For a split second, it looked like it smiled back.

"Fabian!"

This time he was waiting for the shout. Fabian judged that Warwick was a couple of rooms away. He poked his head around the door, just as his father disappeared into the sitting room. Fabian held his breath and darted from the kitchen to the stairs, leaping up them as quickly as possible.

He was in Tanya's room before Warwick had the chance to yell again.


End file.
